[ In the midst of all the depression that followed his transformation, this bit of information gives him an inkling of hope. He glances over at Peter in awe and then belatedly returns his cigarette to him since it's merely sitting there, burning away in his fingers. So there's something about Peter that can keep the worst of his impulses at bay -- that can keep him from hurting others. Maybe the monster inside of him can be controlled after all.

He looks away from Peter and swipes his forearm across his eyes. Dylan isn't necessarily someone who cries very easily. When he's afraid, yes. But he's not the sort to be moved to tears. Yet, fuck it all if this doesn't move him in some way. ]

Fuck. Sorry. Um.

[ He sniffles, swallows the emotion and glances toward a snowdrift. ]

I don't remember any of it. But knowing you could reach me in that state makes me feel like...maybe I'm not entirely lost, yanno? Maybe there's something of me in there. And that it's a real fucking good thing I met you.

[ Dylan reaches out to clasp Peter's free hand, clutching it in both of his as he pleads. ]

So I say this, without a single lick of pride -- I need your help. To figure this out. To get to a point where maybe I don't need to be chained. To regain control of my fucking life. I don't think I can do this without you, Peter...